A Look in the Lives
by RupertsPheonix
Summary: The Potter and Weasley children are all grown up, following family traditions, and creating new legacies. Follow James, Al, Lily, Freddie, and Rox as they figure out how to build and maintain the lives they want – navigating hardships and celebrating triumphs. Look into the lives of our favorite Next Gen characters, all grown up (or trying desperately to grow up).
1. Chapter 1

**_"_** ** _Life's under no obligation to give us what we expect." - Margaret Mitchell_**

 **Story Disclaimer:** I do not own the Harry Potter Universe. It's JKR's playground, and I'm just on the merry-go-round for funsies.

 **A/N:** This fic will likely be a novella with over 20 chapters. However, it is meant to be an outtake from their lives, not an overall viewing. It will seem much more like a television drama, that captures little moments, rather than a film that looks at the big picture. It is also rated Mature. Please consider this your in-story warning for language, references to sexual conduct, personal attack triggers, and other such topics.

To give you some perspective, Al, Rose, and Scorpius are approximately 20-21 in this fic. It takes place 9 years after the Epilogue, or 28 years after Harry defeats Voldemort.

Although I did enjoy aspects of _Harry Potter and the Cursed Child_ , I am not including that storyline in this fic. I began this fic with my own versions of the next generation and will continue to operate off of those, rather than the play.

* * *

 **Chapter** **1**  
Albus Potter stepped onto the handsome mahogany platform, the stagelights above him lit brightly, and saw several flashes of cameras from the wings of the low-rise stage. The platform looked much like it had at every other Auror Certification Ceremony he'd attended, which was quite a fair few, due to the many ties his family had with Magical Law and Law Enforcement. He almost questioned whether the festive green and purple floral wreaths were truly comprised of live flowers, as they looked remarkably the same each year when it came time for the September ceremony.

At the front of the stage was his father, the famous Harry Potter, standing with his shoulders squared, looking almost regal in nature. Even twenty-eight years after defeating the most terrible wizard of all time, Albus still thought that his father looked the part of the strong-willed , resilient savior of the wizarding world.

As his name was called, Al stepped forward to receive his plaque of recognition and shook his father's hand stiffly, though he noticed that the corners of the Head Auror's green eyes were glistening.

Several other names were called, including his cousin and dear friend, Rose Weasley, and her fiancé, Scorpius Malfoy. At the end of the receiving of the plaques, Al sat with his fellow new Junior Aurors in the first two rows of stiff-backed chairs before the stage. His father, sporting his official Auror robes, gold medals, and a tie that Albus himself had bought for him many Christmases prior, cleared his throat and gripped the sides of the oak podium.

"Each year, when we gather in this esteemed hall," he began, gesturing around the elaborate Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, "I reflect on the words of wisdom that were bestowed upon me from several important members of wizarding society. Today, newly awarded Junior Aurors, I share with you some of the most helpful and insightful wisdom I have ever been given."

The Head Auror's eyes twinkled as he continued, and Al watched his father unwaveringly. The Atrium was so quiet that he felt his own breathing might interrupt his father's speech.

"Former Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore once said, 'We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided.' To you, Junior Aurors, I ask that you remember that while our task to protect the magical world is of the utmost importance, it cannot be done well without remaining united in all circumstances - no matter the mission."

Albus could have guessed that his father would quote his old mentor, Al's namesake. Each year it seemed his father would share words of wisdom from the deceased headmaster, and each year Al looked forward to hearing which quotation would be shared.

"Former distinguished Auror Alastor Moody, who taught me more than he ever realized, used to shout - at the top of his lungs - that we all ought to have 'constant vigilance.'" Al watched his father smile fondly at the memory. "As you begin your career in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I not only request, but I also require that you exercise constant vigilance in every effort. From filing incident reports to mapping out crime scenes, from reading case files to dueling dangerous offenders, I will expect nothing short of constant awareness and constant preparedness."

The Head Auror unceremoniously shifted his weight and regripped the podium. He was suddenly looking at a very specific point in the crowd. When a familiar grin graced the man's face, Albus knew his father was looking at his mother, Ginny Potter - there were some smiles that were only meant to be shared between a man and his wife, and, after living with the pair for 20 years, Albus knew that his parents were still as in love as they were on their wedding day. He almost felt as though the ceremony were interrupting a rather fond memory shared between the two.

"The final spot of wisdom I wish to share is from my maddeningly insightful wife. Years ago, when we were in Hogwarts, Ginny said to me, after clarifying that her troublesome twin brothers had taught her this, that anything is possible, if only you have enough nerve." Harry smiled at the spot Albus understood to be where his family was sitting. "Junior Aurors, your gut will serve you well in this position. You know what you are capable of, you know what you are tasked with, and now you just have to have the nerve to do it. Anything is possible."

A rousing round of applause was heard around the Atrium as Harry nodded, stepped back, and allowed the Minister for Magic, an aged but still fiercely intelligent Kingsley Shacklebolt, to address the crowd.

"It is my distinct pleasure to congratulate the Junior Auror Class of 2026. Newly awarded Aurors, we welcome you to the noble profession and congratulate you on your high achievement. You may don your badges."

Albus joined his fellow Junior Aurors in pinning his silver DMLE badge to his chest. As the Minister stepped back, the Atrium erupted into shouts of excitement and praise. Suddenly, the crowd was rushing from their seats to greet and congratulate their awarded family members and friends.

There was a tap on his shoulder, and Al turned to see his best friend, Riley Finnegan, beaming at him. "Congratulations, Junior Auror Potter!"

Riley, a pretty witch with long brunette ringlets down her back and big hazel doe eyes, was Al's closest friend at Hogwarts. She and Albus had been through a lot together - from winning Quidditch Cups for Gryffindor to choosing their future career paths - and he was overjoyed to see her.

"I thought you had to work," he exclaimed, hugging her.

She gestured to her robes. "I took a half day - that's why I look like this, came straight from the apothecary."

Before Al could reply, his mother spoke up from behind him. "You look lovely no matter what you're wearing, Riley," Ginny Potter said kindly. "Al, are you going to hug your mother or what?"

Al grinned and embraced his mum. He laughed as his older brother, James, punched him good-naturedly on the arm and his blue-haired god-brother, Teddy Lupin, ruffled his messy hair affectionately.

"Well done, Al," James said as their sister Lily shoved everyone else away.

"I want to hug the new Auror," she cried, smiling and shoving her way toward Albus.

Ginny Potter laughed at her children and smiled encouragingly at Albus. "Your gran has a cake ready to go at the Burrow. She's already headed back to put up the party banner - we shouldn't keep her waiting."

* * *

Roxanne Hardwick was staring around at her family in the back garden behind the Burrow. Although she was a Hardwick by marriage, she was, through and through, a Weasley at heart. From her love for pranking to her fierce sense of familial loyalty, Roxie was, in all senses, a typical Weasley child. Of course, that's why she was so afraid that her family would notice her aloof nature.

"Kneazle got your tongue, Rox?" her older brother, Freddie, asked, grabbing a bottle of cider off of the picnic table beside her.

Roxie shrugged. "Nah, just tired," she lied easily. Now wasn't the time to share bad news - not when two of her cousins and a future cousin-in-law had just finished their Junior Auror ceremony. No, this was a happy occasion, and Roxanne Louise Hardwick was determined to keep it as such.

Freddie raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You're not sharing tonight, are you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Maybe tomorrow, Fred-o."

He pursed his lips but nodded, obviously not satisfied with her response, but accepting. "I'll make sure of it, sister dearest. Be ready to spill the Bertie Bott's beans tomorrow at the shop."

She shrugged again. "Fair enough." She watched as her brother plodded off, joining in an animated conversation with their cousins James, Al, and Hugo about the Chudley Cannons. Her three-year-old son, Trevor, was off playing with Teddy and Vic's children a few metres away, and she watched as they swung sticks at each other, playing as though they had wands, and chasing garden gnomes from Gran's pansies.

The mocha-skinned woman crossed her arms over her middle as she thought about the empty drawers in her bedroom chest, the unsigned Ministry form on her kitchen table, and the solid gold ring on her nightstand - the ring that weighed heavily on her heart but had an apparent lack of significance for the husband that used to wear it.

* * *

It was five till midnight, and James Potter didn't want to leave the party, but he was due for a shift in just a few minutes. He kissed his mum on the cheek and winked at his little sister, Lily.

"Off to get the baddies," he said, his voice light and joking.

His mother, Ginny, smiled at him and patted his face tenderly. "Okay, Jamie," she said, using his childhood nickname. "Be careful."

He nodded, placating his mother as he so often did. "Always am, Mum. Say bye to Al and Dad for me, eh?" he asked Lily, who nodded and grinned at him.

After he'd Disapparated to the street outside of the Ministry, James pinned his bronze Hit Wizard badge to his chest and stepped into the men's restroom, where he entered the Ministry and immediately went to Level Two. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement (or the DMLE as the staff often called it) was a bit creepy at night, but James was used to it by now. He'd done tons of midnight shifts in his years in the department. The shadows, while still creepy, didn't grip him with fear anymore.

James had worked his way from Junior Auror to Hit Wizard in record time. Some of the other Aurors in his training class were jealous and said nasty things about preferential treatment for the children of The Chosen One, but James knew that the orders for his promotion had come at the request of the Captain of the Hit Wizard team, Captain Anthony Goldstein, and the approval of both his father and the Minister for Magic himself.

It was unusual, of course, to move from the Auror team to the Hit Wizard squad so early in one's career, but with James' quick skills in defense and his ability to think strategically on the spot, he had been a natural fit. It was something that he was quite proud of, no matter what some of the goons in the department thought.

He did get a bigger cubicle - one much nearer to the DMLE coffee room - which was quite nice.

As he waited for his partner, James plopped down at his cubicle and looked at the pile of paperwork in his inbox. Several reports to sign off on, a request for time off to take to Goldstein, and a copy of the recent crime report from _The Daily Prophet_. Beside his inbox, a few photographs were pinned up haphazardly. In one, he was receiving his plaque at his own Auror Certification Ceremony; in another, he was hoisting up the Quidditch Cup with his teammates: his brother Al, his friend Franki Longbottom, and his cousins Freddie, Roxanne, Dominique, and Hugo.

His eyes strayed for a moment too long on Franki Longbottom. Francesca Alice Longbottom was the only child of Hogwarts Herbology Professor Neville Longbottom and his wife, Hannah, who ran the Leaky Cauldron. Franki, as Francesca preferred to be called, had been one of James' best friends in Hogwarts. In fact, Franki, Freddie, and James were almost inseparable in their school days. Thinking back on it, James was sure that there were current Hogwarts students still finding the initials FJF carved into school desks throughout the castle.

James sighed guiltily. It had been months since he'd last seen Franki. The fun-loving, sassy blonde girl was hard at work at the Leaky Cauldron with her mum, and he had more than a full plate of work in the DMLE - at least, that's how he justified it.

The truth was that Franki rocked the boat with Matilda, James' girlfriend, one too many times. Matilda Cornfoot was a very pretty, very particular woman who had little patience for anything that occupied James' attention when she wanted it. James knew this about her, but he loved her; one shortcoming wasn't enough to deter his feelings for her.

Of course, he'd distanced himself because of the affair, if he were being _completely_ honest.

After trying to hide their friendship from Matilda, James had ended up throwing Franki into his kitchen cupboard when Matilda appeared one night, wanting to stay over. James had made a quick excuse about late shifts and sent her on her way, and then Franki was laughing loudly, and they were suddenly snogging heatedly against his kitchen table.

It had ended rather spectacularly that night, as had all of their run-ins afterward. James had ended it though, when Matilda had almost caught them, totally starkers and wound together, in a broom closet at Hogwarts during this year's May 2 Victory Banquet.

"Potter," said a familiar curt voice.

James looked up and nodded. "Hey, Jenkins," he replied, looking at his partner, Robbie Jenkins, as the dark-skinned bloke pinned on his own badge. "Ready to patrol Knockturn again?"


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N:_** _I should have mentioned (and I have since gone back and edited last chapter to include) that this fanfiction may have some triggers for victims of personal/sexual attack. I don't want to be unfair to any victims/survivors by not communicating that up front._

 _Also, The Cursed Child storyline is not featured in this fic. While I did enjoy specific aspects of the play, I am using my own next gen crew and plot._

* * *

 **Chapter** **2**

Freddie Weasley was setting the brooms to sweep the shop when his sister swept in, five minutes late for her shift. It was unlike Roxanne to be late - not to mention the oddly quiet way she was behaving at the party at Gran and Grandad's the night before.

"Rox?" he asked, watching his sister making her way to the back storage room and office.

She waved him off. "Can't a girl get a cup of tea first, Freddie?" she called.

Freddie jinxed the brooms to sweep and made his way to the office. Roxanne was stirring a cup of hot water absentmindedly.

"Sure, you can have tea. You might want to actually add something to the water, though," he suggested. He watched as his sister's mocha-colored cheeks flushed. "Roxie, what's wrong?"

He watched as his sister's shoulders sagged. "It's Todd," she whispered so softly that Freddie almost missed it.

He blinked. "Todd...? What about him?"

Roxanne looked up and met his eyes. Her own dark eyes were swelling with unshed tears. "He left this week."

Freddie felt his jaw drop. "He left? As in, he... he left?"

Roxie nodded, the tears slowly dropping from her lashes. Freddie crushed her into a hug, nearly tipping her teacup. He heard her set it down on the counter and felt her arms return his embrace.

"I'll kill him," he whispered, patting his little sister's back gently.

She shook her head, the tears now rolling onto Freddie's shirt. "No, I don't want any of us to do anything. I haven't even told Trevor yet. Maybe it's just a rough patch. Maybe if I don't sign the papers -"

Freddie pulled back. "There are papers? Divorce papers?"

"Yes, but I think he was just upset. I haven't signed them yet. He's going to come home, Fred - I know it. He's just angry, but he'll cool off and come back."

Freddie was at a loss for words, so he settled for rubbing his sister's arm affectionately. "It's going to be okay, Rox."

* * *

The sunlight was exceptionally bright as James tried to fall asleep. It didn't help that Matilda was flouncing around the flat, singing snippets of Celestina Warbeck's more popular ballads. If it wasn't so cute, he'd ask her to shut up. As it was, he found his girlfriend's terrible singing voice and atrocious taste of music to be almost endearing, and he didn't have the heart to tell her to knock it off.

Instead, he buried his head under one of the many decorative throw pillows that Matilda kept on the bed and tried to nod off to sleep.

As he lay there, visions of Azkaban's newest prisoner played on repeat through his mind. Just last week, a few days before Al's auror ceremony, James and Jenkins had apprehended a wizard that had been stealing high-end jewelry from Madame GiGi's Gem Boutique, a small jewelry shop in Diagon Alley. The thief had been pilfering repeatedly for weeks, and it took the DMLE several visits to even form a decent suspect list. When they realized the robberies only took place on Wednesdays, though, they staged a stake out. James had been under strict instruction from his father and Goldstein to work alongside Jenkins and two aurors to arrest the thief, catching him red-handed.

James hadn't expected the thief to be an old classmate.

Kristoph Tankersly was a year ahead of James, and he had been a Ravenclaw on the Quidditch team. Even at Hogwarts, everyone suspected him of having a real gambling problem. In his confession, he'd stated that he was over ten thousand galleons in debt and needed to pay it back before Halloween.

Even though he was an idiot, James couldn't help but feel badly for Tankersly. The poor git didn't realize that his gambling addiction would lead to a five year sentence for burglary. James could still see his face as he and Jenkins dropped him off at the Azkaban gates.

"James?" called a sweet voice from the doorway.

James opened his eyes and rolled over to see Matilda, tossing the throw pillow to the other end of the bed. "Yeah, Tilly?" he replied, using his nickname for her.

She smiled winningly at him, playing with a strand of her shoulder-length platinum hair. "I thought you might still be awake. I can bring you some leftovers from last night's dinner, if you'd like. Shepherd's pie."

He shook his head. "No, thanks. I don't have much of an appetite today."

She frowned at him, but made her way over to sit on the edge of the mattress. "I hate it when you work the midnight shift," she said, pouting a little. "You always come home so tired, and then you're miserable."

He shrugged. "Goldstein's just trying to keep me on nighttime patrols," he explained. "Jenkins and I caught the last idiot during a nighttime stake out, so he's hopeful we might hear or see something else there."

The answer didn't seem to satisfy Matilda, who shook her head and frowned again. "Well, we haven't gone out in a week, and you've missed brunch with my parents for two weekends now. I hope Goldstein knows what you've been sacrificing for the department."

James offered her a smile and patted her hand affectionately. "It's all a part of the job, Tilly. I'll be back on day patrols soon."

He didn't expect Matilda to understand - she wasn't from a family like his, that understood what it meant to be dedicated to the DMLE. Her father was a private collector of rare magical artifacts and a member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors; James' father was The Boy Who Lived, the savior of the wizarding world, and Head of the Auror Office. Matilda and her family were used to a certain lifestyle - one that didn't require over sixty hours or more a week, one without a permanent "on call" status.

His father had always taught them that the most important thing in life was upholding the truth - being true to yourself, to your family and friends, and to your community - no matter the cost. The DMLE was the way they achieved it. After the fall of Voldemort, Harry Potter had been instrumental in helping Kingsley Shacklebolt reestablish the Ministry of Magic - everything from getting rid of prejudicial statues and fountains to creating an entire new departmental training program for new Ministry employees. It was a legacy of which the Potter and Weasley family was exceedingly proud.

James tugged on Matilda's hand. "Come lay with me."

* * *

Al grinned at his cousin and friends. He, Riley, Rose, and Scorpius were enjoying a few cold ciders in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. The old house had been used by the Order of the Phoenix in the second war against Voldemort, back when his dad was in school. Now, twenty-eight years later, it was home to Albus, Scorpius Malfoy, and Donovan McLaggen as they studied and went to auror training.

Now that the award ceremony was finished, none of them had immediate plans to move out. Scorpius and Rose were engaged, set to be married in less than a year's time, and Scorpius would wait until then to leave Grimmauld Place. Donovan was saving up for a flat of his own, but Al had assured him that there wasn't any hurry.

In fact, Al himself had cleared it with his parents to stay there for as long as he wanted. Neither of his siblings wanted the place (it was rather depressed in nature), and Harry seemed glad to have someone taking care of the property. Al just liked having a piece of family history to himself - to know that his namesake had led meetings at the very table where he sat, that his dad had formed plans to take out the most dangerous dark wizard of his time here.

Al looked around the kitchen at his friends. Riley was smiling in that impossibly attractive way of hers. Her long brown curls were bouncing as she leaned forward to grab a crisp from the bowl sitting before them.

"You really need to start cooking if you're going to have us over, Al," she teased, tossing him a good-natured wink. "You know, play the role of good host a little better."

Al threw his hands up in mock irritation. "I didn't invite any of you lot, I'll remind you."

Riley laughed - a sound that seemed to come from her very soul - and remarked, "Well, Al, you're not the only one that lives here," she reminded, gesturing to Scorpius, who shrugged.

"I invited my fiance," Scorpius retaliated. "She just brought Riley along."

Rose swatted Scorpius on the arm.

Riley faked a hurt expression and stood up, pushing herself away from the scrubbed wooden table. "I can see when I'm not wanted," she said.

Al's arm shot out and his fingers wrapped around Riley's wrist before she could go too far away. "C'mon, Ry - just a laugh. You're always wanted here."

He didn't miss the way her cheeks tinged from his statement, and he felt the room go silent. He felt his own neck and face growing warm as he realized how much he may have let slip in his reaction.

"Yeah," Rose said, breaking the tension with her bubbly voice, "You've got to be here, or these two idiots gang up on me."

They all laughed just a little too hard at the joke, and things were falling back into routine.

Albus had admitted to himself years ago that he was head-over-broomstick for his best friend, but he hadn't said anything to her. They were best friends - he couldn't go risking that by professing some hidden and likely unrequited feelings in the middle of drinks with their mates. Besides, she'd had her fair share of boyfriends since he'd first realized his feelings for her, so he never had a good time to test the waters, so to speak.

Al stood up and offered everyone a second round. It wasn't even ten o'clock yet - they had hours to kill and enough cider to last the night.

* * *

Harry Potter poured himself a lowball glass of Ogden's Finest Fire Whiskey. In the years since he'd been in the DMLE, he'd grown accustomed to the burning sensation of the drink, and he no longer flinched at the delicious bite of the liquid as it slid down his throat.

He remembered the first time he'd tried a full glass of straight fire whiskey with his mates after a particularly challenging round-up of former Death Eaters. He, Neville, Ron, and a few more seasoned aurors (including Robards, the Head Auror at the time) had gone out for drinks after catching four on-the-run Voldemort supporters, and Rosemerta had brought them all fire whiskies on the house. Harry, in the way that an eighteen-year-old bloke would, choked embarrassingly on the drink, and Ron had slapped his back in a terribly obvious way. Harry had been mortified.

Years later, Harry grinned at the memory. He could still feel the way his cheeks had burned, but his chest had swelled with pride when Robards commented gruffly, "Ain't the first to choke on the whiskey, Potter, but you'll get used to it, if the way you handled yourself during that round-up tells anything."

Harry was jerked back to reality when Ginny stepped into his home office. "What're you grinning at?" she asked, stepping forward and resting a hand atop his on his desktop.

The greying wizard shook his head. "Just reminiscing."

Ginny smiled at him, and, like every time his wife sent him that smile, his stomach flipped. "The good old days when you were running the streets and alleyways?"

Harry's green eyes devoured her face - taking in the laugh lines by her warm brown eyes, the way her lips curled upward in amusement, the slight upturn of her freckled nose. He nodded, pulling his hand from under hers and instead running it down the length of her cheek.

"You know me better than I know myself," he said.

She turned her head to kiss his palm tenderly. "I didn't know you remembered me saying that - about having enough nerve," she explained, turning from him and staring at the framed pictures on his bookshelf. She was pausing at a photograph of the two of them, with Teddy, James, and Albus clinging to Harry's legs as Ginny herself wrapped her arms protectively around her pregnant belly. The Ginny in the photo was younger with longer red hair, but was no more beautiful than the now aging one before him.

He had figured she'd bring up his mention of her in his speech from yesterday. He was quite surprised she'd waited this long, to be honest.

"I remember everything you say to me," he replied, taking a sip of the whiskey in his hand.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow in her signature Weasley way. "That so? Then why can't you remember to empty your pockets before you put your trousers in the wash?"

Harry grimaced, and it had nothing to do with the whiskey.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter** **3**  
Roxanne folded the laundry on the kitchen table as she waited for the eggs to finish frying for Sunday breakfast. Trevor was running around her flat, banging on the toy snare drum that his uncle Freddie had gotten for him last Christmas. Roxanne couldn't deny that she hated Freddie for purchasing the damned thing, but she did love to see her son's excited expression as he toted it around their home.

There was a loud knock on the door, and Roxie stood up and peeked through the keyhole.

"Fred-o," she said, opening the door for him. "C'mon in - breakfast's almost ready." She turned and shouted for her son. "TREVOR! Uncle Freddie's here!"

There were thunderous steps (too loud for an average three year old, really) and then Trevor was squealing excitedly as Freddie lifted him up and squeezed him playfully. Just as they were stepping into the kitchen, her parents arrived by Floo.

George and Angelina Weasley were as shocking together now as they had ever been, with George's bright red hair and missing ear and Angelina's athletic build and long black braids. As they stepped forward, Roxie kissed each parent on the cheek and accepted the bowl of fruit her mother had brought with them.

"Thanks, Mum. Breakfast is almost ready," she said, flicking her wand and sending the recently folded laundry into her bedroom as she stepped toward the stove to tend to their eggs in the large black skillet. She watched as Trevor wiggled his way out of Freddie's arms and began running around, banging the drum again.

"Where's Todd?" George asked loudly, pouring a glass of pumpkin juice for himself and then tossing himself into a chair at the table as his wife laid out forks and napkins for the family. "He working weekends again? That manager of his is a right -"

"You haven't told them yet?" Freddie asked disbelievingly.

Roxanne shrugged but felt herself growing uncomfortable. "I thought it'd be solved by now," she admitted in a loud whisper.

"Told us what?" Angelina asked, still holding a fork she was meant to place at the head of the table. "Roxie, is everything all right?"

Roxanne began flipping the eggs onto their respective plates and handing them to Freddie to place around the table. "Everything's fine, Mum. He's just... taking some time to himself."

"Divorce papers are a little more serious than that," Freddie interjected, giving Roxanne a look.

Her eyes grew wide. "Can't you ever keep your stupid mouth shut?" She snapped.

Trevor came running in with his snare drum, beating it ferociously.

"What's divorce?" He asked, staring up at Freddie and Roxie with big brown eyes.

Roxanne felt tears building up. "Thanks a lot, Freddie," she said, her voice shaky. "Trevor, why don't you let Mummy tell you about that later, huh? You can go put your drum away so we can eat, all right?"

He made a face — one that painfully resembled his father's _whatever you say, dear_ expression — and marched off to his bedroom. Roxanne turned away from her family, still plating the eggs and trying desperately to calm the rattling in her chest as she struggled not to sob.

"Oh, Roxanne," Angelina said, and Roxie flinched when her mother touched her shoulder tenderly.

"Ang," came her father's voice, and suddenly, George Weasley was turning her around at the stove and wrapping his arms around her, squeezing tightly. "You're okay, baby girl," he said comfortingly. Roxanne let out a strangled sob – the first outright cry she'd let loose in daylight since finding Todd packing his suitcase in their bedroom. "It's okay, Roxie Lou," he whispered. "You're not alone."

And for the first time since Todd had left, Roxie believed it.

* * *

Albus stirred, his eyes cracking open and a groan escaping him as he cursed the light that shone into his bedroom on the fourth floor of Grimmauld Place. Although Al could have justified claiming the master bedroom as his (as it was, after all, his family's property), he much preferred having the silent fourth floor to himself. He'd taken an immediate liking to the stories his father used to tell of the Black brothers – the wrongly accused Sirius Black who defied his family and became a hero in stories of Gryffindor House and the Order of the Phoenix, and the former Death Eater Regulus who quickly changed sides and died in his efforts to help the anti-Voldemort cause.

The stories were legendary in the Potter household.

Of course, on this particular morning, Albus wasn't thinking at all about his bedroom once belonging to Regulus Black – instead, he was moaning and groaning as the sun stirred him from what had obviously been a dead sleep.

"Bloody hell," he complained, his head feeling heavy and muddled with the many ciders and the eventual gin they'd broken out last night. The laughter between he and his friends was ringing through his head, a recent memory that made the corners of his mouth turn up in a small smile, despite the raging hangover headache he was sporting.

"You're telling me," came an unhappy and very feminine grumble beside him.

Albus shot up, throwing the quilt atop his bed off of himself and kicking the mattress in surprise.

Riley sat up, her brown hair looking wild, as though it had just made it out of a particularly nasty windstorm, and her makeup smudged, a streak of mascara drooping down the corner of her hazel eyes. She rubbed her face, obviously still half-asleep, and tossed herself back down onto the pillows.

"Turn off that damned light and come back to bed, Al," she whined.

Al stared at her incredulously. How was she not freaking out? They had _slept_ _together_ , for Merlin's sake!

Sure, if he were being truthful, Albus had envisioned waking up with her plenty of times – the only difference was that he always imagined that he'd actually _remember_ the events of the night before! He began to shake her violently. "Get up! Get up, you git of girl!"

She batted at his hands half-heartedly. "Leave me alone, Albus -"

And that did it. As soon as she said his full name, she jerked up, sitting up immediately and smacking her forehead into his chest.

"Oof, shit," Al reacted, rubbing his chest tenderly. "You've got a hard head."

She punched him good-naturedly in the arm, then blushed furiously when she looked up at him. "So… Any clue why I'm sleeping in your bed without any trousers on?"

If possible, Al felt his eyes grow wider. He himself wasn't wearing a shirt, but that wasn't too unusual for his sleeping apparel, but Riley being in his bed without bottoms on…

"Er, no clue, to be honest."

Riley, despite her blush, rolled her eyes. "Well, I used to think I was at least a _memorable_ shag."

Albus nearly tripped over his words as he tried to backtrack. "I'm sure you are – I just can't… well, remember."

Riley laughed, then shoved him backward. "Get off of me, you great git. God, you're _heavy._ "

"Oi, shut up, you," Albus replied, sending her a dramatic glare and grabbing his pillow from the head of the bed and propping it up instead against the footer. He leant back against it, trying desperately to seem calm and casual. "So… what now?"

Riley shrugged, leaning against the headboard to mirror him. "Maybe it'll come back to us," she suggested.

He nodded. "Yeah, maybe." _Hopefully_.

* * *

"James! Jamie!"

James sat up in his bed and grabbed his wand off of his nightstand quickly. His eyes quickly adjusted to the late-afternoon light streaming into his bedroom. He'd had another midnight shift with Jenkins last night, patrolling Knockturn Alley until after ten o'clock in the morning. He'd come straight home and rolled into bed, thankful for the cool sheets and the light-cancelling curtains his mother had bought for him.

Now, however, the curtains were wide open, and Matilda was standing before him wearing a tight, black, knee-length dress and pinning a pair of diamond earrings to her earlobes.

"Don't call me that, you know I hate it," James said, adjusting to the light as he stared at his girlfriend.

She rolled her eyes. "Your mother gets to call you that," she argued, pursing her lips in agitation.

"She birthed me and raised me," James replied, sitting up and running a hand through his messy dark hair. "I think she gets the right to call me whatever she wants."

Matilda tutted her disapproval and handed him a gold chain with a large diamond pennant. "Can you help me put this on?"

He sighed. She'd woken him up to get help with her jewelry. Go figure. He stood and clasped it for her, and she turned around and pecked him on the cheek.

"Thank you," she said sweetly. She stepped back and twirled around. "Do I look okay?" she asked, her smile dazzling.

He nodded. "You look great, Tilly. It's kind of making me wonder where you're going, looking all dressed up like that," he added, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Daddy has an exhibit of his Hogwarts Founders collection this evening, James. I've told you about a hundred times," she said, her face suddenly harsh and irritated. "You _said_ you'd make an appearance."

James sighed irritably. He had said that, but that was before he knew he'd be assigned midnight shifts all week. He ran a hand through his hair again before replying, "I know, Til, but you know I've got these midnight shifts and –"

She let out an odd-sounding half-whispered shriek. "James Potter! You are always so concerned about your stupid shifts! What about _me_?"

James tossed himself back onto the mattress. He was trying desperately not to let his frustrations get the best of him. "Look, Matilda," he said, "I will make an appearance tonight, okay? What time does it end?"

She blinked, obviously not expecting him to give in quite so quickly. "It – it goes from seven until nine at Daddy's gallery in London. I'm going early to help get the caterers situated."

He waved her off. "Go ahead and help him set up," he said, sighing. "I'll be there before it ends."

She smiled again and leaned forward to kiss his lips lightly. "Thank you, James. You really are the best."

He watched as she flounced out of the room, her heels clicking as she went. He sighed to himself again, then flicked his wand at the curtains to close them before settling down to sleep another few hours.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter** **4**

Albus had been thinking about it – about _her –_ all shift long. He was supposed to be reviewing and filing Senior Auror Campbell's incident report, but all he could think about was waking up beside Riley that morning. Every time they so much as looked at each other over vials of their hangover potion, he had felt a bolt of electricity run through his chest.

And then there was the way she said his name, as though she knew exactly who she was waking up to before she'd even opened her eyes.

 _Turn off that damned light and come back to bed, Al._

He shuddered. What he wouldn't give to hear her calling him to the bed regularly.

"All right, mate?" Scorpius asked, looking at him concernedly from across their shared workstation.

Albus nodded and smiled across their table. The Junior Aurors didn't get individual cubicles like the other Aurors and Senior Aurors – instead, they had wide desks with chairs on opposite sides, situated in an open work space near the filing cabinets. So far, they'd been seeing more of the incident report cabinets than they had other witches and wizards – not to mention the odd hours they worked, today's being an unusual noon to eight shift.

"Yeah. Just a boring file," he said, gesturing to the parchment before him and hoping that pitiful explanation would suffice.

Scorpius seemed to buy it, as he nodded and picked up a second file for his own review as he replied, "They're not exactly Dickens novels, are they?"

Lily Potter was taking the patient charts to the reception desk at St. Mungo's, fretting about the state of her lime green training scrubs. She'd just been on the second floor, where the Magical Bugs unit was located, and had quickly charmed off a bit of snot and repaired a fabric tear created by a stray nostril spark from a three-year-old girl suffering from a case of the Dragon Pox.

As much as the work often disgusted her, Lily Potter also treasured her time in St. Mungo's. She loved working with people, and taking care of sickly witches and wizards was second nature to her. She'd volunteered in the Hospital Wing back in school when a group of about a dozen third years got on the wrong end of a collection of Blast-Ended Skrewts in Care of Magical Creatures, and from that moment forward, she enjoyed learning as much as she could about the profession of medical care.

Being a mediwitch wasn't easy work, though. It often kept her away from her family, and she felt as though she rarely had time to meet up with her friends. Her friends were understanding, though, just as her brothers and parents were. Gran Molly, on the other hand…

Well, it was Lily's job and her passion, and that was that.

This evening was especially crazed, as Dragon Pox had spread around a wizarding day care center located in Hogsmeade. The children had been rushed to St. Mungo's early this morning, and Lily had been working nonstop for over thirteen hours. Judging by the stack of patient folders on the Welcome Witch's reception desk, she wasn't heading home anytime soon.

"I guess we're all enjoying a little overtime this week," Lily said to the portly witch. The greying blonde grimaced unhappily, but Lily offered her a smile, handed her the completed files, and grabbed a fresh stack of folders before heading back to the magical lifts.

James apparated into the alleyway beside Matilda's father's gallery. It was a primarily muggle area of London, but Mr. Cornfoot had gotten quite the good deal on the upscale location, and it was within walking distance to the London street entrance of the Leaky Cauldron. It was between a muggle bar and bank, and it looked like a private attorney's office to the muggles that passed by; although, if the passerby were magical, they'd see a tall window display of green and white fanged geraniums artistically arranged in an ancient vase with Latin carvings and a door sign that read _The Gallery of the Ages, Magical_ _Collections of Centuries Past_ in an elegant scrolled font.

Mr. Cornfoot was always fond of the dramatics – quite like his daughter.

James stepped up to the doorway and stepped inside, where he saw several handsomely dressed wizards and witches sipping on elfish wine and wandering through the gallery, stopping at various glass box displays of random artifacts.

"Mr. Potter," said a kind-faced boy, whom James recognized as Mr. Cornfoot's personal assistant, Henry, who was fresh out of Hogwarts and interested in magical history.

"Hi, Henry," James replied cordially. "How's it going tonight?"

The boy smiled and handed James a tri-fold pamphlet about the pieces in tonight's gallery. "It's going well, I think. The Minister for Magic was here earlier."

"That's great, Henry." James accepted the pamphlet and stepped forward as he noticed Matilda talking with a rather portly looking wizard and, seemingly, the man's wife.

She turned just as James stepped toward them and immediately placed a smile on her face, excusing herself from the older couple and stepping toward him. The smile was the one that James knew she reserved for such important social events – he'd seen it at several gallery shows like this one, as well as at his own Auror Certification Ceremony, the May 2 Victory Banquets, and whenever the press decided to snap a few shots of them out on dates. (The press had to be particularly slow on real news for that to happen, but they had been blinded by cameras a fair few times in their relationship. James hated it but dealt with it; Tilly enjoyed the attention, even if she didn't outright admit it.)

"Hi, James," she said, kissing him chastely on the cheek. "I see you opted for your law enforcement tie," she added, and he could practically feel the disapproval radiating from her.

He put his own faux smile on and replied stiffly, "Yes, as I have to go to work after this, I thought it might be good to go ahead and wear it. Is that a problem, dear?"

She clenched her jaw but continued her efforts to look the ever-pleased hostess as she noticed the witches and wizards milling around the gallery nearest to them. She took a deep breath and said, "No matter. I would've preferred the gold one I laid out, but it's fine. Can I show you where the exhibit begins?"

Harry shifted his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, peering down at the reports before him. Back when he was an Auror – and even as a Senior Auror – he had never seen Robards act remotely this stressed about budgets. Unfortunately, he assumed that Robards had perhaps shouldered that responsibility alone.

Harry wistfully thought of asking his old boss and mentor to come on as a consultant for this endeavor, but knew that Robards' poor health and age wouldn't allow it – and nor would the wizard's wife.

He sighed, then heard a knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, not standing from behind his desk, but instead taking a sip of the cold butter beer beside his inkwell.

The well-lined face of Anthony Goldstein came in, closing the door behind himself. As the Captain of the Hit Wizard Squad, Goldstein was one of Harry's most trusted employees. It was going to be painful to tell him that his request for more staff was being denied.

"You look terrible," Goldstein said, sitting down in one of the leather chairs in front of Harry's desk.

Harry grimaced. "I feel it." He handed his colleague a bottled butter beer and said, "I'll get straight to it. I hate to do this to you, Anthony, but the department's making cutbacks. I can't approve your request for more Hit Wizards."

Goldstein shrugged. "Ah, figured it'd be a bit of stretch." He took a sip from the dark-colored bottle. "D'you think they'll ever realize that we're the last department that needs to cut back?"

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his dark but slightly greying hair. "Probably not. They figure if Voldemort is dead and the remaining Death Eaters are imprisoned or rehabilitated, they've little need for us."

"Isn't right. There's plenty of crime that needs to be stopped."

Harry nodded his agreement. "Hermione and I have looked over the reports, and we don't know how to cut anything else out. As Deputy Head of the DMLE, she's got to make a proposed budget. Luckily, she accepted my suggestion for the Aurors and Hit Wizards to take on no new additions for a year and to offer early retirement to a few of the folks that are nearing the age mark."

Goldstein nodded. "I'll hate to lose Sylvia Brownsfield– she's a damn good squad member, but she'll take you up on the offer to retire early. She's got grandkids and great-grandkids to look after."

"We'll be losing Gathers and Haines, too," Harry said, taking another sip of the cold butter beer and peering at the employee files he'd stacked on his desk. "Gathers has been using a bit of his sick time lately, especially after that attack in Hogsmeade last year, and Haines has been planning her retirement trip to begin in a year's time anyway. We're not the only ones, though – Hermione's going to lose a few attorneys to the retirement offer, too."

"Eh, well," Goldstein said, peeling the label from his bottle. "It could be worse. At least we're not firing the newbies, eh?"

"Not yet," Harry agreed, though the Captain of the Hit Wizard Squad was voicing his own fears aloud. Harry prayed it wasn't coming down the pike.


End file.
